Tesla Martin will celebrate her second birthday Thursday.

At first glance, she appears to be a typical smiling little girl with pigtails and a contagious laugh.

She loves music (Johnny Cash to be exact), pushing buttons on the family computer and cuddling up in her mother’s arms.

But Tesla isn’t like other children.

“At my 35-week ultrasound they told me that her head measured big,” recalls Tesla’s mother, April Wagar. “That’s exactly what they said to me.”

It didn’t sink in right away.

“I was driving home and I called them back. The nurse told me (Tesla) had hydrocephalus. I had no idea, I was in the car, still on my way home.”

April quickly called her mother, Terri Eldridge, and told her what the nurse had just said.

Neither was certain what the news meant, but they knew it was bad.

“I stayed cool on the phone,” Terri says, “but as soon as I hung up I burst into tears.”

The bad news kept coming.

Tesla’s hydrocephalus was caused by Dandy-Walker syndrome, a rare malformation of the brain that, depending on severity, can cause a wide variety of developmental and neurological conditions.

About one in every 1,000 babies in America is born with hydrocephalus. Dandy-Walker syndrome, meanwhile, occurs once per every 25,000 births, mostly in females. No cure exists for hydrocephalus or Dandy-Walker.

Tesla was born on May 14, 2007. Her mother named the young girl after Nikola Tesla, the inventor credited with creating the radio, along with several other electrical innovations.

April hoped to one day pass on her love of music to her daughter.

Despite weeks of preparing herself for the worst, doctors told April she could take her daughter home.

“They said ‘take her home, but she might be a little clumsy,’” April said. “She was doing great.”

Then, at 13 months old, Tesla’s condition worsened.

She stopped eating, she slept more and her development stalled.

The doctor ordered an MRI. There was pressure building in Tesla’s brain, doctors told April they planned to perform an endoscopic third ventriloscomy.

The risky procedure involved surgeons poking a hole the third ventricle of Tesla’s brain, creating another pathway for fluid to flow, relieving pressure in her brain.

The procedure worked.

Within a month, Tesla was sitting up on her own, eating and acting like a typical toddler -- other than the large scar on top of her head.

“After the ETV I got a toddler over night,” April said.

But Tesla’s struggles are far from over.

“The ETV has a 50 percent failure rate because children grow and the hole can close,” she said. “We’ve avoided shunts. My biggest fear is she would become shunt ridden.”

The problem with using shunts to alleviate pressure in the brain, Eldridge explained, is that they often fail and would require frequent surgeries to be replaced.

What the future holds for Tesla is uncertain.

“It’s very day by day,” April said. “Her vision is 20/200. Her eyes are fine, but her brain doesn’t process the images her eyes see.”

Communication is also a problem for the little girl.

“She does get frustrated,” April said. “It’s hard. As a parent you do so much, we work with her constantly, we’re always trying new things.”

Tesla currently sees a physical therapist, occupational therapist, vision therapist and speech therapist on a regular basis to help with her development.

And of course, there are the many visits to doctors, which inevitably mean needles and machines that Tesla would rather have no part of.

That’s where Johnny Cash stepped in.

“She loves music, she loves Johnny Cash,” April said of her daughter. “We’re actually known by ‘Ring of Fire.’ That song keeps her from going nuts when they’re hooking up IVs and stuff.”

April was living in Illinois at the time of Tesla’s birth. The relationship between April and Tesla’s father, Michael Martin, didn’t endure.

April knew she couldn’t raise Tesla by herself, so she moved back to Beatrice to live with her parents, Mike and Terri Eldridge.

“I had to leave Illinois; my family was here, we moved back for support,” April said.

It was in Nebraska where April began to search for more medical help for Tesla. Through local doctor Patrick McGuffey, Tesla was referred to Lincoln specialist Dr. Jeffrey David.

“That was the first time I cried,” April said. “When she was three months old she found a doctor in Lincoln. Before that I had been on auto-pilot, I knew I had to get stuff done. I want the best for her, and I’m going to find the best for her.”

It’s not that April is ignoring reality.

She knows full well that her baby girl will likely face many obstacles in her lifetime.

But Tesla is a fighter.

“I joke around and call her my little Harvard student,” April said. “Even though she has this diagnosis, maybe we’ll have to work a little harder, but that’s not going to stop her.

“I almost have more hope for her because she’s been through so much.”

Though not quite two years old, and unable to speak, Tesla’s family will attest that the youngster has taught them some valuable lessons about life.

“She’s two years old and has taught us more about life than anyone,” Terri said. “You see the whole world through new eyes because of her.”

And the family is taking extra steps to make sure that even more Nebraskans learn from Tesla. On Wednesday, May 13, Tesla, Terri, April and dozens of other friends and family will travel to the State Capitol in Lincoln to witness Gov. Dave Heineman sign a proclamation to officially declare May as Dandy-Walker and Hydrocephalus Awareness Month.

The proclamation is a product of a letter writing campaign Terri spearheaded.

“One in 500 people have hydrocephalus, but how many people have heard of it?” she said. “That’s appalling to me that no one knows what it is. We believe awareness will lead to medical progress.”

The family has also been circulating gray wristbands to help encourage support and awareness for Dandy-Walker. Tesla’s uncle, Robert Wagar, is a member of the Beatrice High School football team and has passed the wristbands out to his coaches, who have vowed to wear the bands for the opening game of the 2010 season.

Tesla can typically be found at the high school football games on Fridays in the fall, cheering for her brother and the rest of the Orangemen while wearing her homemade BHS cheerleader uniform.

Meanwhile, Tesla’s family will continue to cheer for her.

“She’s a fighter,” April says as she fights back tears. “Through all this, all the doctors appointments, brain surgery, therapy, she still smiles. You walk through the door and her eyes light up. She has seizures, she has eye problems, but she has a purpose.

“She’s capable of anything. If she can’t do something traditionally, we’ll modify it.”

No sooner does April finish that sentence and Tesla erupts into laughter on the other side of the room. The little girl, with a bright smile, pigtails and her little dress, is holding her head up and posing for pictures as a photographer clicks frame after frame.

“She loves to have her picture taken,” April laughs.